Let It Rain
by goldnox
Summary: ONE SHOT/Too many days are filled with battles, with tears. Others can quickly pass by without notice. But what about the ones that are soft, quiet and slow? When the only sounds that matter are soft trickles of rain on a window, whispered promises, adoring chuckles and the comforting feeling of being cocooned in satin sheets? Some days, it's better when it rains. / Delena / Lemons


**A/N: Good evening dearhearts! So, as promised due to my dumping an obscene amount of angst all over the world with Unthinkable, here is a nice fluffy one shot to enjoy! We are set somewhere in the very beginning of Season 5, in happy Delena land. When everything is perfect. You know, before Tessa and all her bullshit Universe the Matchmaker/Cuntface decided to step in and spout ridiculous prophetic beliefs. Screw 'em all. I say we give their universe the bird and show 'em how it's supposed to be done. Hoo rah. **

**Trogdor19, my adorably, scrappy beta, you are the best gift that becoming obsessed with a TV couple and writing has ever given me. That I ever could have dreamed of. That I know I don't deserve and hooker if you try to run from me I will hunt you down. I claim thee, dragon. (And now that everyone thinks I'm a freak...(while you're no doubt laughing your ass off...))**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Let It Rain**

A long breath glides out of me and with my eyes still closed, my focus hones on the slow and steady, sleepy beats of his heart. I smile and my body sinks deeper into the mattress. I love our bed.

As though his unconscious mind can tell that I'm starting to wake up, he shifts closer; the down feathers in the pillows rustling as they rearrange under him, a satin sheet whispering its agreement to let him move beneath it until his sleep-warmed chest molds to my bare back. A feather-light hand scoops the hair back from my face, tucking it behind my ear in a gesture that distinguishes him just as equally as the timbre of his voice.

He pulls me closer, a long arm draping across my stomach and palm settling on my hip, his nose nuzzling the back of my neck with a languorous inhale.

"Good morning," I whisper and decadent lips brush my shoulder. "Sleep well?"

His nod is faint, just enough that it tickles where the new hairs on his chin and jaw brush against me. I squirm a bit and feel him smile, his leg winding over mine to keep me still. He slides his other arm under my neck and his right hand finds mine, tangling our fingers together. I bring them up and tuck them under my chin so I'm encircled by his warmth, and his thumb frees itself so it can caress my cheek.

There's nothing as beautiful as waking up with Damon.

He's gentle in the morning, soft whispers and tender kisses. He likes everything quiet, unhurried, unstressed and un-everything that defines the typical chaos of our life. I think it's the only time he feels truly safe to be himself.

When we eventually get up and start the day, the carefully constructed maze of armor he wears will be put on just as though it was a shirt or a pair of jeans. It will be all teases and taunts, rolled eyes and flirty smirks and enough sarcasm to fill the Pacific. But while we're in bed, hidden from the world by wooden walls and silky sheets, thick curtains and beveled glass, he can be the man that vows he loves me with every single touch.

I wiggle a little so his hold loosens, allowing me to roll over so we're face to face. His eyes stay closed, black eyelashes swept down and I scoot higher into the pillow, slipping my arm under his head and palm on his shoulder so now I'm the one holding him. He never resists me in the morning, snuggling into the space beneath my chin so his lips rest against my collarbone. He gives me one small kiss when I thread my fingers into his hair, my nails massaging his scalp in a perfected pattern that practically makes him purr.

My lips press against his forehead and he hums happily in response.

"What did you dream about?" I ask him and his arm over my waist moves, one fingertip trailing a line from the top of my ribs down to my hip before it re-settles on my lower back. "Clowns having car chases after robbing a ceramic shop?" I tease and my position changes.

Instead of lying beside him I'm sitting up, facing the headboard. I feel the tug of his hand in my hair and another squeezing my hip, pulling me down as he thrusts up into me. His tongue is laving my nipple and fangs are in my breast, my voice an endless a scream from my orgasm.

I gasp and I'm back where I started, cuddling a sleepy Damon with dawn coming in through the windows. I'm still getting used to how easily he can project his thoughts into mine, sometimes preferring to communicate through images first thing in the morning.

"A replay of last night. Very nice," I say and press a kiss into his hair.

"Incredible," he mumbles and I smile. My hand leaves his hair to cup his jaw, tilting him up so I can see his eyes flutter open for a brief moment.

"There he is," I beam at him and get my first taste of his lips, pressing my mouth to his as delicately as possible. We linger a little longer than we will later in the day, the pressure just enough to promise that whatever we face when we leave the room, we'll come back here at the end.

I release him so he can return to burrowing into me like I know he wants to, his feet kicking off the sheet and comforter in the process. I suck in a breath as goosebumps erupt over my skin under the blast of frigid air. He knows how cold I get but he's always whining that I'm a furnace, and the war of the blankets has only become more intense as time goes by.

I scrabble for a sheet but he dramatically yawns and rolls further on his stomach so he's fully on top of me, the weight of his chest pinning me to the bed.

"So much better," he sighs.

"Damon…" I complain, the comforter just beyond my fingertips.

"If you weren't a vampire," he starts and pauses to yawn, for real this time. "I'd think you were running some sort of fever. Unnatural…"

"Damon, please. I'm freezing!" I whimper and he huffs before reaching for the blanket, his longer arms easily making up the distance I couldn't cross.

"Wuss," he mumbles, pulling the comforter up and tucking the edges in over the top of my shoulders, almost covering his head from where it's resting on my chest.

"Thank you," I breathe in relief.

And all I get in return is a grumpy sounding, "Mm-hmm."

Once my shivers are finally gone I bring my hands up and start massaging his shoulders, paying special attention to the knots he gets in his neck from stress and what I think is actually a byproduct of tilting his head at people so freaking much. He stretches and turns his head, granting me the angles I need while a low rumble vibrates through his chest. It's not often that he lets me take care of him, and I try to make the most of it.

I listen as his breaths and pulse relax, so rhythmic that they almost put me to sleep. In fact, I think he may have drifted back off. I continue anyway until his muscles are loose under my hands, yielding to my suggestions without the slightest opposition.

When I'm satisfied with his comfort and come to a gradual stop he doesn't seem to register it, and now I know he's asleep. My eyes are just dropping closed when his left arm twitches, always the second part of his body that wakes up. I don't think the first part ever really goes to sleep. He grumbles a moan and rubs his cheek against me, inhaling my scent with the corner of his mouth perking up.

"Feel good?" I ask and he nods dozily, pressing a kiss against the curve of my breast. "You about ready to get up?"

His grin grows and I roll my eyes, but I don't miss the scratch of his jaw when he shakes his head no.

"We gonna stay in bed all day?"

His nod is more enthusiastic than I expected it to be and I can't help but to laugh quietly.

"You sure you don't want to go for a run?" I ask and start combing through his hair. "I'll let you chase me…" I taunt and he rumbles a quick growl in approval. "That's what I thought."

"Gonna have to chase you inside," he mutters into my skin. "It's going to rain."

"Nuh-uh. It's supposed to be sunny all day."

He works one hand out from beneath the covers and holds up three fingers. He takes them down to two, then one, and the moment his hand drops back to the bed a crack of thunder strikes outside.

"How do you _do_ that?" I whisper and his chest shakes against my belly in a silent chuckle.

"You can feel the pressure, baby," he says and yawns again, not seeing my blush before I do my best to hide it. "You're just new. You'll get it."

I nod dutifully so he doesn't look up and bust me for being so overly happy at his slip of an endearment, going back to focusing on his hair.

"You need a haircut again," I tell him and he bats half-heartedly at my hands.

"No."

"What? I didn't say I was planning on doing it."

He lifts his head so his chin is centered on my sternum, his skeptical gaze on a low simmer compared to what I've received in the past. I bite my lip against a grin and he lays back down, not mentioning out loud what happened the last time I told him he needed a haircut. And then convinced him I could do it.

I wince at the memory. It's a good thing his hair grows so fast.

"I'll go tomorrow," he says and I don't argue, just focusing on the patters of the rain starting against the windows. But I think he takes my silence for something else because he glances up at me again, and even though I smile sweetly his face falls. The next thing I know he's crawling further up and over me, plopping down on his side and shifting me so I'm curled up against his chest.

"I wanted to watch the rain," I pout up at him and with a roll of his eyes he slides me over his body so I'm snuggled against his left side, facing the windows again. He pulls the blankets back up and straightens them from where they came loose, making sure I'm covered.

"Better?" he asks quietly and I nod. "Good."

His fingertips start pulling through my hair so it's back off my face, both of us silent as we watch the rain. We don't speak again for a long time, his fingers continuing to play with my hair and wandering down to my neck and eventually my back, trailing lines over my skin until all I know is the sound of water on glass and his touch.

"Weather permitting," he starts softly when he does speak, "you want to do dinner at that probably _terrible_ French restaurant you've been eyeing since it opened, recover with some drinking and some dancing?"

I blush, but he doesn't mention it. One of the things I never expected to learn when we actually got together is that Damon likes to date. And not in a let-me-buy-you-a-drink-and-get-you-into-bed way, even though I guess he used to do that too, but in a let-me-show-you-off-and-spoil-you kind of way. And I figured that even though we're technically dating, the dating aspect was sort of unnecessary because we were already in love with each other by the time we became a couple.

Dating, to my understanding, was mostly about testing out a person to see if you could love them and then after that, you were just together. Like dating a spouse, it just seemed to be a moot point. But a quiet part of me wonders if Damon worries about us becoming stagnant. That if he doesn't constantly stoke that fire, it'll burn out. And I don't think it ever would, but I doubt I'll ever get the chance to know because he wouldn't dare risk losing me to something like inattention or complacency. Who would have thought Damon Salvatore would be the one teaching me about healthy relationships?

Because the thing is, we could stop going on dates. We could just always hang out at the house or grab to eat whatever was quick and easy, lounge on the couch and watch TV and we do those things too, and I love the domesticity of it all, but he keeps me on my toes when he suggests things like tonight. It's fun to get dressed up, go out to dinner and have him pull out my chair, laugh and flirt and tease and talk about us and only us, not discuss just the how-was-your-day or guess-what-problem-I'm-having stuff. We leave together and we come home together, but it's surprisingly, wonderfully romantic.

"Sounds perfect," I tell him and he squeezes my shoulder before going back to whatever he's been drawing on my skin.

Dating also helps to kick us out of the bedroom once in a while. Which sounds like a weird problem to have, but we have to be careful.

We spent so long just as friends. Incredibly close, and fraught with sexual tension, but still platonic. We built a relationship based on trust and respect and not just chemistry, though we have it in spades. And while I always thought the anticipation would kill me, it's the knowing that's the true demon between us. Because it's good, so so _good_ and addicting and sometimes it's hard to remember that we are much _more_ than just sex. Especially now that we have the freedom to have it as much as we want.

His gaze falls to me and he presses a long kiss into my hair.

"I love you," he whispers and I smile, my hand on his chest reaching for his free one. They find each other and his fingers slide through mine.

"I love _you_," I promise and his grip tightens for a moment before he faces the window once more.

We have to take the time to see each other, hear each other, spend time loving each other with our words and not our bodies. It took a lot for us to come together and we both want it to last, to work, and for that to happen we have to stay grounded to who we are and where we began. So we date. We cook. We clean. We lay in bed and listen to the rain. We don't always make it through without eventually attacking each other in a frenzy of passion, but we try. And it isn't easy.

We can never seem to be together enough and Damon needs to know that I'm not using him for all that he is between the sheets, and I know he wants me to be reassured that as much as he jokes about needing sex all the time, that's not why he wants or loves me. So sometimes we say no for the simple reason of owing each other these moments, the promises that we are more. To respect our relationship enough that it doesn't become focused on one, admittedly amazing, thing.

And when refusals happen it's hard to remember that it's not about rejection or a lack of devotion. There are fights and sometimes we get hurt, but in the end we both know what's going on. And I never thought I'd see the day that Damon would say no to sleeping with me, but he does.

He's careful about it, but it's still there and he's doing it right now. His body woke up ready to be joined with mine and even though we've been laying here for a while, he hasn't made a move to satisfy it. He's been sweet with his touches and mindful to keep his lower half separate from mine so I don't feel his erection, and the thing is, knowing he's doing it only makes me want him more, love him more.

Damon is all about control, walking the edge of temptation and having the ability to temper it so it doesn't own you. He does it with blood, only sipping from his glass and being able to keep his eyes clear and teeth blunt, putting it down and walking away. It's insanely impressive considering how much I want to lose myself in each and every blood bag, but his strength gives me my own. Inspires me to be better. He decides when to be rash and when not to be, and that makes him the farthest thing from reckless I've ever known.

But Damon also taught me and encourages me to be free. To know when to cut the restraints and let yourself feel all that is available to be felt, to experience and marvel and revel in each day.

I peek up his face, relaxed and comfortable, unknown endless thoughts sifting through his mind. His hand is light on my back, twirling little circles over the dimples above my bottom, his other laced lovingly with mine and lying by his hip. He clears his throat and shifts a little, his abs rippling and the sheet pulling down to highlight the deliciously bare, sculpted slant of his hips as he props a knee up.

One little movement. That's all it takes.

"Damon?" My voice is a little shaky, nervous even, though I have no reason to be.

I wait until he turns to look at me, calm curiosity in the way he tilts his head and how his hand never pauses, not even for a moment. His eyes are awake and clear, and beautifully unworried. It's taken a long time for me to say his name and have him look at me like that.

"Make love to me," I whisper with a shy smile and he returns it, just the slightest hint of an uptick in the curve of his lips and it makes my grin grow to a full out beam.

He brings our hands up from his side and flattens my palm on his chest, unwinding our fingers and rubbing the back of my hand in a move so smooth I don't know when one action started and faded to another. When he's sure I'm comfortable he leaves it behind, his fingertips tracing my face from my temple to my jaw until they rest on my neck, his thumb caressing my cheek when he leans forward to kiss me.

"Thought you'd never ask," he breathes right before his mouth brushes mine.

He only comes close enough to tease me into wanting more, letting me absorb the fullness of his bottom lip but not fully tasting him. He pulls away too soon but returns to nuzzle his nose with mine, his head tilting like he can't decide if he wants to lean left or right.

It's to the right. It's always to the right.

Carefully his mouth opens over mine, his tongue dipping in slowly like I'm something to be savored, as if it's the only chance he'll ever get and he wouldn't dare to hurry. And when he does stop and start again it's the gift that keeps on giving, final words on repeat and a prayer immediately answered. Tiny drops that equal a flood because Damon kisses like the rain.

I'm lost somewhere between the drizzle and the downpour when my leg slides over his hip, brushing against what he kept hidden from me all morning. His hand drifts down my body, but instead of pulling me closer his palm lays on top of my thigh, keeping us apart.

I moan my disappointment and he caresses my skin tenderly, not giving in but asking that I be patient. I've already forgotten what I was upset about when his hand draws up to my belly, flattening across the span of my hips and easing me onto my back.

His sleek body is pure grace of movement when he settles over me, his lips trailing to my jaw and down to my neck, dragging over my collarbone and stopping at my shoulder. His tongue touches me with a throaty moan, and I can't help but giggle.

"Something funny?" he mumbles into my skin and I nod my head, sinking deeper into the pillow when he pulls back, propping his head in one hand to look down at me without rolling off. "Pray, do tell."

"It's just…" I start and shrug, biting my lip as I caress my hands up his back. "With as much as you were always staring at my ass, I never thought for a second that my shoulder was the real target."

"First of all," he says and his free hand slides under me, squeezing my bottom and pulling me closer, "your ass wasn't the only thing I was staring at. Second, it's not like I ever _stopped_ staring at it, thanks to whatever genius declared that denim needed to be melded with spandex and marketed to hot little things like you. And third, I happen to like this shoulder," he says defensively.

"So I've noticed," I tease. "Is that why the two times I've dared to wear a strapless dress I barely made it out of the closet?"

"You should've known better," he says seriously and I can't help but to laugh. "And it's not like you can blame me. I mean, look at it," he says and gestures to the body part in question. "It's smooth," he tells me, bending to kiss it. "It's soft…" Another kiss, longer this time. "Deliciously sexy…"

My back arches when he scrapes me with blunt teeth, my hips rolling on their own and just when I brush against him, he tilts his hips away from me. I huff a frustrated sigh and my hands leave his back, flopping down to the bed.

"Aw, don't be like that, pouty," he says and kisses my cheek.

"You're being mean," I tell him and yep, I'm totally pouting.

"Not mean. Taking my time."

I frown a little, unable to argue with his reason despite my impatience. I release a breath and try to calm myself down, focusing on his touch. He's sort of playing with my hair, brushing it back from my forehead in light sweeps as his gaze drifts over me. I study the skin under his eyes, perfectly creamy and no hint of what lies underneath. I bring my hands up to cup his face, my thumbs massaging over the skin but I can't feel them even though I know they're there.

"What?" he asks softly and I blush. "Really? Again?"

"Please?" I say as adorably as possible and he rolls his eyes, but he's smiling as he does it.

He lets the predator take just his eyes; onyx twists and turns rising under my thumbs and pulsing up to his bottom lashes. They flow with the rhythm of his heart, a rush of vibrancy and then they're almost gone, another beat followed by another flash. Like thunder and lightning.

"What do they feel like?" I ask as I watch, mesmerized.

"You know what they feel like," he says quietly.

"But what do they feel like to _you_?"

His head tilts as he considers, then finally says, "Itchy."

"They are not itchy," I laugh and his eyebrow cocks.

"Really? Then how do they feel, Miss I Know Everything?"

"It's…it's complicated," I say and he props his head on his hand again as though he's settling in for a story. "Okay," I say and I can't keep the excitement out of my voice that I'm getting to explain something to him that I've spent a lot of time thinking about. And the fact that he looks eager to hear just urges me on. "You know how when your arm or leg or hand or whatever falls asleep, when it wakes back up it's all tingly?"

"You mean when your circulation restarts and the nerves start firing?"

"Whatever," I say and he chuckles. "So, when I was a kid I would always imagine that the feeling came from a Daddy Long Leg-"

"A Daddy Long Leg?"

"The spider," I clarify and his lips twitch like he wants to laugh at me again.

"I'm sorry, do continue."

"So, I always imagined that a Daddy Long Leg was walking around inside me, only his feet were getting stuck in my skin so every time a leg moved, it would pull at it and make this weird tingling feeling."

Damon bursts out laughing, head thrown back and everything. It's really hard to be offended when he looks so cute and happy.

"Let me get this straight," he says and tries to catch his breath. "You're telling me that it feels like you have a spider walking around in your face?"

"No," I say with mock irritation. "Not walking, more like…ice skating. Wait, that's too sharp," I mutter and think. "Rollerblading!" I say happily. "Definitely rollerblading."

"Mm-hmm. Because a rollerblading spider makes _so_ much more sense."

"It does! That's what it feels like."

"Itchy," he whispers with a grin and I roll my eyes.

"You just have no imagination, whatsoever."

He leans forward until his lips are hovering right over my ear, his breath hot against my skin.

"That's not what you thought last night…"

Shivers race through my body and my back arches on its own, pressing my bare chest into his. My leg slips higher around his waist and this time he doesn't push me back, his hand cupping my bottom and pulling me closer. Something between a moan and whimper escapes me when his mouth travels to my neck, soft and wet kisses being placed one after another and everywhere he can reach.

The rain picks up outside and the steady thumping against the glass sounds like my heart in my chest, only increasing when he begins to slide down me. Light grazes of his fingertips precede his lips, deliberately relishing every inch of my exposed skin. Maybe that sound is my heart after all.

My eyes close with a sigh when he cups and massages my breast, the lines in his palm drawing my nipple taut, aching and anxious for the sharp scrape of his teeth. His rubs his cheek against it, rough and prickly hairs giving me some relief but not fully releasing the tension.

"Damon…" I plead quietly, gasping when he flicks his thumb over my nipple.

His voice is low and deep when he murmurs, "I know."

I get one faint kiss but no bite before he continues kissing and adoring his way down my body, lingering over my stomach and my hips, petting and stroking every nerve and sensation to a blistering peak. My hands come up to fist in my hair, tugging at the roots as I try to control my breaths. Damon must notice and I know he doesn't like it when I take the tension out on myself, but I can't help it. His palm slides up my arm until he finds my hand, untangling it from my hair and lacing it with his before he brings both back to rest on his neck.

"Use me," he whispers and my other hand joins my first in his hair, but I can't be anything but gentle when I feel him.

He hooks an arm under my thigh and I squirm, shamelessly tilting my hips up towards him. It's useless though, because the more I rush the slower he goes, waiting until I'm still before he blows a stream air across my clit that is a jolt to my senses.

He chuckles and I want to dig my nails into his neck and wrench him closer until I get what I want, willing to do anything that will relieve the throbbing between my legs. My grip must tighten without my permission because I hear him wince and then his hand weaves with mine, squeezing lovingly even as he pulls it away and lays it by my hip, his other petting my leg as he kisses the inside of my thigh.

I wait as long as I can stand, a plea for mercy ready to leave my lips when his tongue finally touches me: one long slick line from my entrance to my clit. A wave rolls through my body with the torturously gradual movement, my back bowed by the time he pulls away with a rumble of approval. I collapse back down, panting and dizzy and uncontrollably restless.

"Breathe, Elena," he says gently and I can't help but to laugh a little, unsure how I'm supposed to do something like focus on air when all I can think about is him touching me. How desperately I want him to do it again. What I would sacrifice for him.

Everything. The answer is everything.

My free hand threads into his hair and I force myself to pay attention to the silkiness of the strands, trying to ignore the way his warm breath is somehow cooling me. One of life's many mysteries.

"Don't move," he commands and my muscles lock until they quiver, his hand holding mine steady when his tongue dips inside me.

A sound rushes from my mouth but I have no idea what it is, a curse, his name, maybe both and maybe nothing because the only thing in this whole world is soft but also firm, full and velvety and delicious as it strokes in and out, twirling and searching and _feeling_ me. He could do this forever and I would never get used to how intimate it is, how special he makes me feel.

My mind is flashing through all the ways I want to show him, explain to him, repay him for how incredibly he loves me when he replaces his tongue with a slender finger, curling it inside me to pet the Holy Grail of spots he knows drives me insane with pleasure.

"Oh _God_…_Damon_…" I mumble as his lips circle my clit, his replying moan vibrating from his throat right into me and my body spasms.

He's relentless even when tender, scraping and soothing, sips and flicks as he tastes all of me and it's too much, too good, too strong and too _everything_ and I want to make it last, but I never will. Not with the way he moans, like he's enjoying this as much as I am. Impossible with our hands joined, locking us together. Unfeasible when he tells me what he wants, what he _craves, _and that's for me to come for him.

And I do.

Long and slow, wave after wave, he commands passion to pulse through me until I have nothing left to give. And I'm glad, because I'd rather he have all the best parts of me.

Sound comes back to me first, trickling taps of water on the windows, splashes on the pools that have formed outside. A heartbeat, secure and calming. Lightning flashes and my world is silver, sleek lines punctuated by black hair, his head resting on my belly. Thunder booms and he looks up at me, a pleased tranquility playing across his lips that mirrors pure adulation in his eyes, and this is the look that tells me that in endless years, it will be his voice that I wake to and the last one I hear before I sleep at night. And I wouldn't want it any other way.

He's silent now, dropping a kiss to my skin before sitting up, smoothing his hands up my sides and wordlessly telling me to turn over. I smile and roll onto my stomach, my hands hugging the pillow so I'm perfectly, wonderfully comfortable. There are not words enough to describe how much I love this bed.

I shiver when his lips touch my spine, goosebumps racing up my back long ahead of his measured ascent.

"Cold?" he breathes when he reaches the shell of my ear and I shake my head no, but he brings the blanket up and over us anyways, his body warm on top of mine.

He works an arm under me so I'm snuggled in an atmosphere of Damon, his cheek against my own so I can feel him smile between tender kisses to my neck and shoulder. Like we have all the time in the world and we're going to take every minute of it.

"I love you," I whisper and his chest shakes once under a laugh.

"Tell me later," he says quietly and I nod because I know better than to say that when we're in bed like this. It's not that he doesn't believe me, but it's easier for him to hear it when he knows I'm not being swayed by blood or sex or anything other than my true feelings. I don't want to know how many times he's heard it in the throes of passion only to have it revoked later.

"I will," I promise and turn my head so I can kiss him fully, re-giving him my words in the best way I can think to and this time, he accepts them.

We're both breathless when he hooks his right hand behind my knee, drawing it up to my side so I'm open to him. He slides against me and I pull my lips from his with a gasp, dropping my face into the pillow. The arm he has under me comes free and he sweeps my hair to the side, nuzzling my neck and I tremble. My hands need purchase on something more solid and they find the headboard, pushing me back towards him, where I know he's waiting.

Long fingers slip through mine so I never feel alone. His forehead drops to my neck and with his breath washing over my skin, he starts to push into me.

We moan together as I stretch around his swollen tip, gradually welcoming him into my body and glorifying in each solid inch he has to give until he's buried as deep as possible. His heart is hammering against my back and in the pad of his right thumb, caressing the side of my knee as his grip tightens. He waits before he strokes into me again, fiercely controlled strength and hitting the spot he seems to be attuned to that strips me from reason.

My head whips back and he stills, letting me settle before he moves again. His pace is relaxed and graceful while our bodies mirror each other, the same roll traveling from our hips up to our shoulders so our skin never separates. It's amazing, like we're the same person, same soul, all in one body. And it's something that I've only ever known with him, the way we can understand each other without ever uttering a word. We just _know_.

Because I want to see his eyes, I need to taste his lips, and as though he can read my mind he pulls out, helping to guide me so I'm once more on my back with my legs around his waist. He comes right to me, dropping his forehead to mine and entering me in one smooth stroke that pulls the air from both of us.

I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him passionately as he makes love to me, his hands sliding up my sides and my back, brushing the hair from my face when he pauses to look at me with an affectionate smile. I have no idea how he makes everything so beautiful.

I barely press against his shoulder and he rolls us like I wanted, settling me on top of him. He props his knees up to tilt me forward, his hands on my shoulder blades easing me down to him and it's exactly where I want to be, both of us smiling when our lips connect. I love being able to make him happy and I've learned precisely how to do it.

I roll my hips once and he moans throatily, his arms around my waist holding me tighter as he rocks up into me.

"Don't move," I whisper into his lips and he chuckles quietly at my repeated instructions. I squeeze my inner muscles around him and his hold body jerks with a groan.

"That's cheating," he tells me and I bite my lip wickedly.

"Doesn't mean you don't like it," I say and squeeze him again, this time rewarded with a gasp for my efforts.

"Elena…" he starts and pauses when I distract him with a swivel of my hips. "That is so not the point."

I bend to kiss him and even though I know he's worried about finishing too fast without satisfying me first, I don't see that as a problem at all. I wouldn't do this if it wasn't what I wanted. Damon just doesn't understand that his pleasure means just as much to me as mine does to him and when I can get away with it, I try to let him come out on top. Not that it ever works because he'll repay me, over and over, but it's worth a shot. He deserves to be prioritized.

My lips travel to his jaw, hitting the spot I know drives him crazy and scraping it with my teeth, kissing the hollow under his ear that makes him shiver. I'm tracing the vein in his neck with my tongue when I squeeze him gently, using the control I've mastered to pull tighter against his shaft in one long roll, just as if it was my hand against him. He swells and twitches inside me, his back arching in a way that makes my ego soar.

"Stop that," he mutters and I hold in a laugh.

"Be still," I remind him and I know that if he really wanted to stop me he could do it in a dozen ways before I could utter a word of protest but instead, he just blows out a breath, his fingertips trailing up my spine. "Just relax, feel me."

I shift so my mouth teases his, giving him one flicker of tightening and listen to his pulse spike.

"Feel good?"

"Mm-hmm," he nods and takes my face in his hands, looking at me like he's never really seen me before.

"What?" I ask but he just shakes his head.

"Nothing. I'll tell you later," he says softly and my heart melts.

I lean down to kiss him and he holds me like I'm precious, like I'm something to be cherished. I just wish he understood that he is too.

I start to move slowly, rolling my hips and muscles massaging him at the same time, working him up until his breaths are shallow and head tilted back, neck strained against all that he's feeling.

He grits out my name and I tell him to let go, to come for me just as I did for him, his grip tight on my hips when he slams up into me, pumping his release where I can claim it as my own private reward.

His body unwinds under mine, taking long breaths to calm his pounding heart as I do my best to soothe him, stroking my thumb over cheekbone and nuzzling the other side of his neck between light kisses. When he regains the ability to command his arms his drapes them over me contentedly, one hand tucking my hair behind my ear before he shifts and presses his lips to my forehead.

"I swear, woman," he says with a light chuckle, "you are kryptonite for my stamina. And _ruining_ my reputation."

"Ungrateful," I tease and he laughs again.

"Never. Just…"

"Just what?"

He's quiet for a long time before he says, "That was entirely your fault so you can't blame me at all."

I press another kiss to his cheek and sit up. "That's some apology you got there, Salvatore."

"Yeah, well I've had practice," he shrugs, running his knuckles up and down my arm. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"You better," I glare mockingly and cross my arms. "Because I am horribly mistreated and if you can't satisfy me, I guess I'll just have to invest in a vibrator."

His eyes widen with a devious grin and then he's flipping me onto my back, my breasts bouncing and hair fanning over the pillow.

"You are in so much trouble, Gilbert," he growls playfully and pretends to attack my neck, sending a burst of giggles to come unbidden from my lips. They cut off with a gasp when he pulls out and then slams all the way into me, still rock hard and hitting that perfect spot. He does it again and my breath seizes in my chest, my whimper of a moan giving light to a devilish gleam in his eyes.

"You were saying?" he says haughtily and I attack his lips, tightening my legs around him in an urge to feel him deeper. His tongue delves into my mouth as he thrusts harder, stopping suddenly when a crack of thunder shakes the house.

We both look at the window; what should be blue skies are now black with the storm, water pounding against the glass with no sign of letting up.

"So much for our date," he mutters and I smile, turning his face back to mine.

"Damon," I say and lean up to kiss him. "Just enjoy the rain…"

* * *

_fin_

* * *

**A/N: So there we have it. See, I'm not pure evil, am I? Thanks to all for the endless support, and while you're at it please join me in celebrating _Trogdor19_, aka _Michelle Hazen_ for kicking all the ass on Amazon Kindle Worlds for her trilogy _Desperate Love!_ You go girl, I am so incredibly proud of you! And while you're over there checking out her books, feel free to see a few of mine as well, _The Sounds of Tomorrow_ and _Resonance of Reality by C. L. Marlene_. Y'all rock! Thanks for reading! **

**-Goldnox**


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